


call me hopeless, but not romantic

by relgeiz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, angela being an awkward POS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10099184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relgeiz/pseuds/relgeiz
Summary: “Pardon me, ma’am.” Angela's eyes move slowly, realising she hadn’t in fact been as subtle as she’d thought as they trail up over chiselled calves and what she presumed to be thighs as solid as rock before finally meeting that still calm expression of the woman from up front “Ja—Yes! Yes, Hello there.” Internally she was absolutely screaming at herself, holding her papers with a white-knuckled grip. The woman sits opposite her, both arms leaning on the seats either side of her with a curious glance “I can’t help but feel like I have something on my face?” She’s greeted with nervous laughter “Well, other than a nose I can’t see anything worth mentioning!”





	

Angela has taken the same route to work for the last five years. She listens to the numerous conversations echoing around her between colleagues and strangers alike, crammed together a little too tightly yet not enough to complain. She watches the staircase for the old subway pass as she heads down the main streets, smiles at the little old lady who sits in the sun outside the florist every day only to be greeted with a rose by the old fellow who runs it. The little café on the corner of fifth and sixth street bustling with older gentleman scrambling to get their coffees before heading off to business meetings and the like. It was the same every day. The same scenery. The same sights. The same people. _The same route to work for the last few years._ It was calming, honestly, calming in the way slipping her scrubs on before a big surgery felt alongside the familiarity and knowing she was needed where she stood. 

Despite being so lost in her thoughts a little gold glint catches her eye from the front of the tram, attached to the darkest hair she’d ever seen and an _unfamiliar_ face that caught her attention more than it had for quite some time. The city she lived in wasn’t exactly _big_ so she couldn’t help but watch the brief interaction the woman had with the driver before leaning idly against a nearby pole with arms folded over her chest.

She was glorious, for lack of a better word, standing tall and proud with arms sculpted by the _gods_ as far as Angela was concerned when she compared them to her own. Her skin looked so warm and inviting and she hadn’t even _realised_ her mind had ran away with her until that gaze pierced her own and she found her mind turn _blank._ She was lost, _stunned,_ quite literally taken aback up until the tram lurched once again to a halt and her entire body was sent smacking forwards into the pole she too had been leaning against. The stranger turns away with the faintest little smirk on her face and the doctor would have given **anything** to simply melt and disappear forever amongst those around her. But people weren’t going to recover on their own, and she was forced to suck up her embarrassment from the giant red line forming on her forehead and murmur awkwardly as she passes the woman and utters an awkward _thankyou and goodbye_ to the driver before internally screaming the rest of the way to work.

_The stranger remained with a smirk._

* * *

The commute home is far less busy than the morning. Those bright eyed and ready for school were already well at home and huddled up with their families, the man with the flowers has closed up shop for the day and the little old lady had since bundled into her scarf and headed home to her apartment. She still passed the familiar old staircase down to the subway, past the café that held lights yet no patrons as the need for caffeine decreased as the hours grew later and later. _At least, if you were anybody but Angela, of course._ Lights of reds and greens glint brightly off windows while the fading shades of pink disappear from the sky if only to greet with the scattering of stars in its place. It was peaceful, most of the time. Angela would often sit and go through case notes and research papers about upcoming surgeries or the like, completely off in her own little world for close to an hour before she too turned in for the night.

At least, that’s how it went any other time. Her _usual_ venture filled with lights and missing patrons from the morning run was instead interrupted, replaced by a familiar gaze so dark she felt it was possible to be lost in them from this far away. For lack of a better word it was strange. Angela Ziegler was a people person, she noticed people and their habits, she dealt with them from the moment she stepped foot in the hospital ‘til the moment she stepped out. She dealt with men, she dealt with women, so many people from so many areas and backgrounds with so many appearances and yet suddenly this woman— _this stranger –_ had her speechless to the point of swallowing her tongue. She was beautiful, honestly, her head held high and proud with her shoulders back in such a self-assured manner. She looked _strong_ as though nobody could touch her, and quite frankly the doctor felt that aura coming off her to match. She seemed untouchable, like if the blonde were to approach her for any reason ( _which she certainly, was not_ ) she would dissipate into thin air and everybody left on the bus would think the good doctor had _cracked_ from her painstakingly long shifts.

She pauses in her train of thought about this unknown, buff woman with a pit of horror dropping into the pit of her stomach as she realised, _Angela had been staring _at this poor soul who probably thought she was _insane_ for lack of a better word. She stumbles, blue eyes flittering from side to side for something, _anything_ to focus on that wasn’t _her._ Perhaps she hadn’t seen, perhaps it had seemed like a simple glance upon realising they’d made eye contact the morning before. Angela was _sure_ this was totally fine and she was making a big deal out of absolutely nothing.

****_Absolutely nothing_.

The woman gives a brief smile, a little cheeky and hooked to the right as she notices the endearing way the blonde begins to scramble to line her belongings up as though _extremely_ busy with whatever it is she was doing in her lap. Tall, tanned, and a lot _less_ terrified than her apparent opposite she pushes herself off the pole nearby the entrance and makes an idle path up towards the back of the bus, idly leaning against one of the chairs as she watches the woman **freeze.**

“Pardon me, ma’am.” Angela's eyes move slowly, realising she _hadn’t_ in fact been as subtle as she’d thought as they trail up over chiselled calves and what she presumed to be thighs as solid as rock before finally meeting that still calm expression of the woman from up front “Ja— _Yes!_ Yes, Hello there.” Internally she was absolutely screaming at herself, holding her papers with a white-knuckled grip. The woman sits opposite her, both arms leaning on the seats either side of her with a curious glance “I can’t help but feel like I have something on my face?” She’s greeted with nervous laughter “Well, other than a nose I can’t see anything worth mentioning!” As if things couldn’t possibly get any worse she feels her pager slide out of her lap and skitter across the floor, just barely stopped as the other catches it with cat-like reflexes and stops it with the ball of her foot. Angela gives the most awkward smile known to the history of man-kind as its handed idly back to her, earning the faintest laugh from her counterpart who seemed to be _enjoying_ her pain.

“This is my stop. I hope to see you around, Angela.” She gives her a wink, rising from her spot and meandering back down towards the front before disappearing off towards her apartment. The doctor however stares with a blank expression, slowly glancing down at the paper pinned between her thumb and the pager as she silently begins to have an internal meltdown over what had just transpired. Penned upon the ripped surface in the neatest handwriting, read  
  


> **_Coffee sometime?_  
>  **  
>  **_\- Fareeha._**

  
Followed by a series of digits Angela _assumed_ to be her phone number. She waves faintly, the woman already _well_ off the bus as she slides the device and the paper back into her bag before covering her face and releasing a faint whine into them and hiding the rest of the way home.

The commute home is _far_ less busy than the morning, but apparently today decided she was going to need a little bit more than a cup of coffee or five and a slice of toast to get through tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, everyone writes Fareeha as being the awkward one but i am 100% down with Angela being unable to hold a conversation past a professional work one to save her life so here's that then :')


End file.
